Evinyatarë
by Merilith Zvezdnayapyl
Summary: After many centuries in Mandos, Fëanor and his sons are brought back to life, on a strange island called Manhattan. At the same time, a surgeon heals strange patients who claim knowing her and beg for her forgiveness. How to start a new life with those you love, when some of them don't even remember you, when you and your family are not the only ones coming from the past ?
1. Prologue

_Of course, I neither own Arda, which is Tolkien's property, or our beloved Earth. But some characters are mine._

 _If there is any error about the universe, tell me, don't be shy. Let me however remind or learn you that **English is not my mother tongue** (I'm French), so if you notice grammar or spelling mistakes, I would be pleased to know, in order to increase my linguistic level. **I'm still desperately looking for a bete-reader, so if someone is interested, that would be nice.**  
_

 _Now, have a good reading time :)_

 **Prologue**

When he woke up, he first felt an awful headache. He couldn't sit, his pain causing an imbalance to his whole tall body. He stayed on the ground, deeply breathing. He pressed his hands against his head as if it would explode. Wait… His handS ? The man blinked, but it was real. He really had his right hand back. That was a nice discovery, but, where was he ? His headache slowly disappearing, he studied the place. A forest. So, it wasn't the Halls of Mandos anymore. A million questions filled his mind. What exactly was this place ? Was he alone ? Did his brothers woke up there, too ? Was he going mad ?

He finally found the strength to stand up, and began walking, towards the sunset. He walked for what seemed to be hours without noticing any beast, without seeing anyone. Even if he was dressed in the clothes he wore when he died, he hadn't any weapon, which made him feel really exposed. The Elf hoped he wouldn't get in trouble before finding anything to defend himself.

{O}

A bright light woke him up. He blinked. He heard seagulls screaming, waves splashing. Water licked his legs and hands. He buried his fingers in the ground. Wet sand. He had a weak smile. He was alive, again. Then he heard someone, but didn't understand anything, as if he still was under water, neither could he see what happened. He felt a hand touching his, and tried to hold it. A moment later, he was lifted by someone. He couldn't focus on anything. Was it a dream ? His mind worked really slowly. He fell again into darkness.

{O}

The ground was hard under his aching body. An awful smell choked him, fire, smoke, and something else he never were confronted to before. Many voices spoke, screamed. Panic, fear, but also curiosity. He opened his eyes and saw a woman's face above him. Around, a circle of other people watched him. He gave them an angry glare. The woman above him spoke again:

"Sir, are you alright ?"

Even if he understood her question, her language, he didn't know how to react. What could he answer ? He tried to sit, but she told him not to move.

"You could hurt yourself more than you already are. You will be transported to the hospital."

He sighed, but didn't shout what he really thought. He then noticed they were not elves. So, Humans looked like that ? Ugly, useless creatures. He waited a few minutes more before a noise that pierced his ears covered those already unpleasant surrounding him. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Humans getting out of a strange giant metal box. They quickly laid him on stretcher, but gently enough so he got not hurt. He didn't know what they put around his neck, arms and legs, but he couldn't move. All of this, done very fast. He was lifted into the giant metal box, and he felt it moving.

The moving giant box stopped a few minutes later. The Humans opened the doors, and got him out. One of them talked to new comers wearing transparent yellow tunics above their blue shirts and pants :

"About thirty year old man, escaped from a fire, with burns on his arms and legs, and minor wounds on his face. He's conscious"

"Alright, said a yellow and blue dressed man, we'll take care of him."

The laying man closed his eyes, hoping it was just an awful dream.

 **So... What do you think ? If my English is not such a disaster, and if you are curious about what happens next, you know what to do :)**


	2. Chapter 1

_Of course, I neither own Arda, which is Tolkien's property, or our beloved Earth. But some characters are mine._

 _If there is any error about the universe, tell me, don't be shy. Let me however remind or learn you that **English is not my mother tongue** , so if you notice grammar or spelling mistakes, I would be pleased to know, in order to increase my linguistic level._

 _Oh, and even if I love watching_ Grey's Anatomy _, I'm not_ _that_ _familiar with American medical system (about internship, residency, how old is supposed to be an intern who began his studies right after high school...). So if there is anything wrong or inaccurate, tell me._

 **Chapter I**

The dark depths exhaled their burning and bitter scent, drowning tiredness and agony. Nothing could pierce this opacity, nothing hit as hard as this strength. This was the beginning of everything… At least, that was how Nina Daniels enjoyed her coffee.

She just ended a night shift at the hospital, and after a short nap in on-call room, she felt a bit less tired. Another day waited her. Nina was in her second year of residency, wanting to become a plastic surgeon. She was not really interested in cosmetic surgery, however, even if one of the attending surgeons of the hospital was better than a magician. No, she preferred reconstructive surgery, with broken limbs, burned or shredded skin...

Once her coffee drunk, she changed for another set of light blue scrubs, then her superior ordered her to go to the emergency wards. She was joined by at least six interns, an attending surgeon and two other residents : Mary, who began her specialization in orthopedic surgery, and Samuel, who preferred trauma surgery. An emergency vehicle stopped in front of the hospital and its passengers opened the doors. Their supervisor, Doctor Stark, asked what happened to this new patient.

"About thirty year old man, escaped from a fire, with burns on his arms and legs, and minor wounds on his face. He's conscious"

"Alright, Stark said, we'll take care of him."

They brought the patient inside and installed him on an emergency room. Nina was charged to him with Stark and Samuel, while Mary and other surgeons had to deal with two other patients. The first one of them had been found in Central Park, dehydrated and his left hand burned, while the other had been rescued from drowning in the East River, and presented the same injuries, but on the right hand.

"What's your name ?" Stark asked their patient.

"Fëanáro", he answered.

He didn't sound afraid, but suspicious and despising at the same time. Stark didn't pay attention, but Nina clenched her teeth to stay polite against this rude attitude. She then assumed it was his own way to protect himself, and began studying his burned arms. Fortunately, it was not as serious as it appeared, his nerves didn't seem damaged, and even if they looked impressive, these injuries were superficial. When Stark finished to check his throat to be sure nothing could trouble the patient's respiratory functions, he let Nina and Samuel with him so he could see other patients.

When Fëanáro's gaze met Nina's, he lost his arrogant expression and his face was nothing else than pure shock.

"You're here ?"

"Excuse me ?"

"What's wrong ?" Samuel asked.

"You're here", the patient repeated. "I'm so sorry... I didn't want to hurt you. I would understand if you hated me."

Nina met Samuel's confused glance, but neither understood what was happening.

"Do you know him ?" Samuel asked.

"Not at all", she answered in a whisper. "He might be really confused."

She shook her head and turned to the patient, who kept looking at her as if she was a precious yet fragile flower which could fade in winter's coldness.

"Sir, your injuries are really extended, but you're lucky, they're not that profound. You will stay in the hospital so a plastic surgeon will repair your skin. Do you feel any pain, anywhere ?"

"No, I don't", he finally answered, coming back to reality.

"Alright. You had no papers on you. Is there anyone we could contact, family, friends ?"

"No, there is nobody. I'm alone, now".

He seemed so sad Nina could almost feel her heart break. When she seemed to leave him to the good hands of the nurses, he grabbed hers.

"Please, don't leave me alone."

"Sir, I have patients to check. Don't worry, you're safe, now."

"Please..."

These words had cost him a lot. He would never tell them to anyone, only someone very particular. The surgeon had no idea.

"Alright, let's make a deal : you let the nurses and doctors taking care of you, and I'll visit you whenever I have a break. Do you agree ?"

"I do".

And he smiled. Nina chose to ignore Samuel's smirk.

{O}

"Nina seems to have found her Prince Charming", teased Samuel.

They were with Mary and two other residents, Jade and Chuck, respectively in cardiology and general surgery, sitting in the cafeteria for lunch. Hearing her friend's joke, Nina sighed and took another sip of water. But she couldn't ignore the six curious eyes craving for more details.

"One of our patients is convinced we know each other and wants me to stay with him. Only me. And he can't stop apologizing for I don't know what offense he caused me.'

"He's not afraid of her anger", Samuel specified. "Or, he was at first, but now, it's like he wants to protect her. And something else : he wore medieval clothes when he came here ; red tunic, destroyed armor parts, and even a gold circle on his head. Maybe he thinks he's sort of a knight king caring for the honor of his lady. How many do you bet he'll pretend he's here because of dragon fire ?"

"Wow", Mary escaped. "Is he handsome, at least ?"

"Mary !" everyone exclaimed.

"What ? It's an interesting story, I want to hear more !"

"Well, yes, he is", Nina finally admitted.

If she was perfectly honest, she wouldn't use the term "handsome", but "freaking hot" instead. Grey-blue eyes, black long hair, perfect features carved in marble... But she didn't want to give this to her friends.

"Now you're telling this", Mary began, "two other patients came right after yours. And they both wore medieval clothes, too. And were really hot, that being said."

"Is there a movie, or a festival, around ?" Jade asked.

{O}

After lunch, Mary went to check the two other medieval-clothed patients. Their injuries were only localized on their hands, but according to X-rays, it was serious enough to keep them, especially in the case of the red-haired: his left hand was burnt, but his right wrist presented similar marks to those caused by a severed limb inexpertly stitched up. They however were brought in the same room waiting for operation, emergency wards being crowded, and when they saw each other, Mary didn't know if she understood better or less what was going on.

"Nelyo ?" black-haired began.

"Kano ?" red-haired followed.

"These are not the names you gave me earlier", Mary frowned.

"My apologies, my lady", red-haired Nelyo said with a soft smile. "These are our nicknames. He's my young brother. You can keep calling him Maglor, and me, Maedhros".

"And add you are related", Mary ended while noting this new piece of information on the paper she held. "So, maybe could you tell me your surname, now ? We really need to know. Nobody will harm you here."

She had tried to make a joke, but the mysterious brothers took it very seriously. Maedhros was again the one answering her requests.

"Fëanorion."

"Perfect, thank you."

{O}

When Mary gave him Maedhros and Maglor's files before moving to an emergency consultation, Stark had to read the main informations twice. Their surname sounded familiar. Seeing Nina in the hallway, he remember something and called her.

"Doctor Daniels, does the name Fëanorion mean anything to you ?"

"Not in this form, but our first patient of the day was called Fëanáro... Why ? Do you think he's related to another patient ?"

"Well, I think he has something in common with two others."

"Fëanorion, you said ? I don't know if that could help, but in Russia, for example, people have three parts in their names : first name, patronymic, surname. I give you this one : Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin. "Fëanorion" could be the equivalent of "Sergeyevich", "-ion" being then the suffix. Moreover, when they talk, Russian people use their first name and patronymic, they don't tell "Mister Pushkin" but "Alexander Sergeyevich". I have no idea where our mysterious patients come from, but mine patient had an accent I never heard before, so, maybe are they indeed from abroad".

Stark gave her a strange glare. He didn't expect such a linguistic presentation from his resident. But he appreciated her quick mind and speed to provide solutions or answers, even not in her area.

"That sounds coherent, but there is a problem : the other patients are not young enough to be his children. His younger brothers, why not, but not his sons."

"It could be a simple coincidence. Or he is effectively their older brother, and bear the same name as their father. If I'm right about what I just told, then the brothers didn't tell their surname but their patronymic. Fëanáro didn't give any surname. I insisted, nevertheless..."

Actually, when she asked, all he answered in despair was the fact she was supposed to know this information, before sulking and refusing to speak to her. Her superior remained silent, and she waited for a reaction, an answer, a suggestion, anything.

"Go to see the brothers ot learn more, you are now on these cases", he finally said, "Maybe will you be luckier. I'll find something for the other one."

He then told something about this "administrative waste of time" before giving Samuel the mission to question Fëanáro.

 **So... Review ? Even if it's to tell me how disastrous my English is ?**

 **I don't know when I publish Chapter 2, However.**


	3. Chapter 2

_Of course, I neither own Arda, which is Tolkien's property, or our beloved Earth. But some characters are mine._

 _If there is any error about the universe, tell me, don't be shy. Let me however remind or learn you that English is not my mother tongue, so if you notice grammar or spelling mistakes, I would be pleased to know, in order to increase my linguistic level._

 _A big thank you to those who write reviews and follow my work. And a kiss to every reader who takes the time to read._

 **Chapter II**

When his room's door opened, Fëanáro straightened himself. But it was not _her_. Instead, he saw the young brown-haired and dark-eyed man who helped _her_ and the healer who seemed to be their superior treating his wounds. The patient put an arrogant expression on his face, one of those which immediately commanded respect from his family. In his great surprise -and disappointment-, it didn't work that much. The healer didn't seem impressed, keeping a stoic face.

"Mister Fëanáro, I am Doctor Woods, and now in charge of you. I came to check your wounds, but first, I have questions for you. It's highly important for us to have this information, so we can take care of you the best way possible, and fill all legal procedures. You may have had fun treating my colleague that way, but I wont give up."

The man rose an eyebrow, curious to see how far this Human will go with his insolence.

Meanwhile, in the room Maedhros and Maglor shared, Nina discovered her day had still a lot of surprises and interrogations for her. When she came into the room, both the brothers seemed to jump to the ceiling as if they had been struck by lightning.

"By all the Valar !" shouted the red-haired (Maedhros, if she remembered what Stark said).

Two sets of intrigued eyes observed her. She really felt uncomfortable. Was there something wrong with her ? Would they do the "I-know-you" thing, too ? Recovering from the shock, the brothers adopted a more neutral face. But the black-haired (Maglor, right ? Strange names for stranger guys) made the situation weirder.

"We're sorry, my lady, we didn't mean to offend or frighten you, but you look a lot like someone we know..."

Nina repressed a sigh. Yeah, they did _it_.

"You neither offended or frightened me, sir, I just didn't expect that. I came to tell you're about to be operated. But I have questions for you, about your identity. Your files are still incomplete, and administration service wont let it go."

"What is missing ?" asked Maedhros.

"Information about your family. Are you married, do you have girlfriends, children ?"

"None of us does."

"Other siblings ?"

"We had, but we lost them years ago."

"I am sorry... And your parents ? You are adults, but maybe could we contact them..."

"Our father… disappeared too. Our mother is still alive, but we didn't talk to her for years."

"I see..."

She paused a moment, then chose another way to attack.

"I'm a bit curious, but it's strictly personal, and, I hope, not offensive : where do you come from ? Your accent is unknown to me, and your names, unusual."

The brothers shared a sad smile, which expressed tiredness, resignation, and a deep sorrow. Nina felt bad. Did she tell something wrong ? Was the subject that sensitive ?

"Our mother created them from an old language. We come from across the ocean."

"Oh, you're European ?"

"Yes", Maglor lied, remembering what Námo told them before they came back to life, and understanding it made sense to most of the people.

"I think I got it", Nina began more to herself than to her patients.

She looked behind her to be sure nobody heard, took a chair she put between the beds and sat on it so she could see both the brothers in one sight and be at their height at the same time.

"Are you illegal entrants into the country ? I mean, you have no papers, you seem to hide more and more secrets with each answer you give, you still refuse to tell how you hurt yourselves, you clearly have foreign accent and names... Am I right ? Did you came illegally there ?"

Maglor looked at his brother, waiting for the eldest to lead the discussion and avoid embarrassing questions and answers. But Maedhros didn't tell anything for what seemed an eternity. Nina still waited, she decided she wouldn't leave without an honest answer. Maedhros sighed, and seemed to have an idea. He dug his gray gaze in Nina's dark blue.

"Maitimo Nelyafinwë. Makalaurë Kanafinwë."

Nina blinked. What was this nonsense ? What did it mean ? Was he trying to cast a spell ? It was a ridiculous thought, but she already crossed that bridge at the beginning of the day. She however couldn't escape the man's hypnotizing gaze. There was _something_ , she didn't know really what, that held her. These strange words echoed again and again in her head, like an old song she forgot centuries ago. But this feeling faded so fast she couldn't remember it correctly once the "spell" ended, as if she imagined something really powerful, and lost it. How frustrating !

Did Maedhros read in her thoughts ? Anyway, he seemed to understand what happened in her mind, and used a stronger "spell".

"Fëanáro Curufinwë."

{O}

When Námo told him he would finally be released from his Halls, Fëanáro was there for almost fifteen thousand years. Fifteen. Thousand. Years. Even for an Elda, this amount of time was insane. But the eldest son of Finwë was glad it finally happened. The Doomsman added his sons would share the same fate, but what came after this second good news disappointed Fëanáro. Indeed, neither him or his sons would awake in the Blessed Realm, but in Middle-Earth, where Ages passed, and Eldar disappeared from. In other terms, he and his sons would be reincarnated among Humans, before redeeming themselves for their crimes and finally deserving to see Aman again. The Vala of the Dead anticipated Fëanáro's outburst, and told him someone volunteered to join them on Earth.

The Prince of the Ňoldor had been confused at first. After all this time, _S_ _he_ wanted to do that… He couldn't wait to see _Her_ again. But it would have been better if _S_ _he_ didn't forget everything ! Were the Valar still that cruel millenniums later ? Was he the only one remembering his previous life ? Did his sons fully reincarnate, with birth, childhood, teenage, adulthood, as _S_ _he_ seemed to have ? Like _Humans_ ? Was this his last punishment ?

Fëanáro thought that his awakening in the middle of a human city, with so much witnesses around, and injuries from his previous death, was humiliating enough, but now, he understood that being treated that way by a human healer was worse. So, the Valar wanted these creatures, the Edain, to lead Arda ? He had been patient, he accepted being bound to those odd things that constantly bleeped in a dull white room, he accepted those awful smells, this white tunic… But he couldn't accept the healer's way to talk to him, as if he was a spoiled child.

"Do what you have to", he finally answered to Woods. "once you're done, I'll consider granting your request."

It was the healer's turn to rise an eyebrow, but he accepted, and began to check his wounds.

"That's strange..." he whispered. "Your injuries are already healing. It looks like your burns are not a few hours but several days old, especially those on your face. Do they hurt as they did this morning ?"

"They don't. I almost feel nothing there."

"And on your arms and legs ?"

"It's unpleasant, but not painful."

"May I ?"

The patient agreed, and Woods lifted the sheets. It only confirmed what he thought. The healer noted all of his observations on a paper. Someone knocked the door at this moment.

{O}

In the deserted streets of Pompeii's ruins, silence was as heavy as the layers of ashes that had kept the old city hidden for centuries. The cold light of the moon and stars was not strong enough to pierce such darkness. Nothing moved, no wind blew between the old walls which didn't totally collapse during the famous catastrophe. But there was something living there, if It could be called _living_. The thing was just a mere shadow when It chose the ruins as Its shelter, but It began recovering from Its injuries, and finally took what looked like a humanoid shape, even if it wasn't made of flesh and blood. Actually, It looked more like a ghost than a complete person.

The Shadow felt however Its time was coming. Its master was about to be back from where He was for millenniums, He will find It and make It powerful and feared again. It was just a matter of time, the Shadow didn't doubt anymore, and crossed the city to reach the volcano. The Shadow buried Itself into the dirt like a disgusting worm, and through the fertilized soils, then layers of ash and stone, finally found sleeping magma. The Shadow immersed Itself within the burning golden liquid, which was where It woke up from, about two thousand years ago, devastating Pompeii and Herculaneum in the process. During this amount of time, the Shadow spent endless days in magma, alternating with night's darkness, to collect as much energy as It could. Fire and darkness. Its elements. Fear and destruction. Its powers.

 **Well, well, well... Problems are coming...**

 **Reviews ?**


	4. Chapter 3

Of course, I neither own Arda, which is Tolkien's property, or our beloved Earth. But some characters are mine.

If there is any error about the universe, tell me, don't be shy. Let me however remind or let you know that English is not my native language, so if you notice grammar or spelling mistakes, I would be pleased to know, in order to increase my linguistic knowledge.

Ok, I know, It's been a while... BUT I have an explanation. This year, I study to prepare the CAPES (in History-Geography-Civil Education), the contest that permits to be a high-school teacher in France. Each year, only around 18-20% of the candidates that actually do the tests (a part of the registrants give up during the year) are selected, it depends on the number of available places for the next school year. Moreover, I'm working on my own novel (It takes so much time and energy) and I'd like to rewrite a Resident Evil 4 fanfiction I began years ago (in French or in English, I don't know).

Anyway, enjoy the chapter.

 **Chapter III**

The older healer who took care of Fëanáro came in the bedroom. According to Woods, he was "Doctor Stark". Stark seemed severe, but at this moment, his expression was mixed with confusion. Behind him, She was here. Stark didn't tell anything to his patient, but talked to Her.

"Doctor Daniels, it's yours to act"

Woods seemed curious at first, then displeased. Fëanáro didn't even smirk, his eyes were entirely turned to the only woman in the room. Said woman grabbed the chair in the corner, sat next to him and took a deep breath.

"Sir, if I tell you "Curufinwë", does it ring a bell?"

"It does. I know two people answering to this name. One of them is myself."

Deep in his heart, the former Prince hoped She finally remembered everything. But an odd question followed this one.

"So, is Curufinwë your patronymic?"

"No, it's my given name, chosen by my father."

"Alright… Are you related to someone called Maitimo Nelyafinwë Fëanorion? Makalaurë Kanafinwë Fëanorion? Are they cousins of yours? Brothers?"

That surprised him. Were his two older sons here? With all their memories? And, according to human standards, adult enough to seem from his own generation, instead of the next? He had to be very careful, these Humans took seriously each detail about one's identity, he could admit that.

"These two are my distant cousins. I thought I wouldn't see them again", he finally answered. "In the… community where we come from, first names often become surnames. Their second names and my surname, Finwion, are built from a first name, Finwë."

It was not really a lie, after all. He hated liars, but how could he explain these habits and customs came from a species that disappeared several millenniums ago? He wouldn't believe it himself! But the healer woman nodded as if she understood how complex and deep was the story behind his short brief presentation. It didn't surprise her that much, indeed. Wasn't her own surname from a first name?

"It's complicated", Woods whispered not discreet enough.

"You can leave, Doctor Woods", Stark said dryly. "Now this mystery is resolved and we are done with administration, maybe could you check other patients. Doctor Daniels, once you are done with Mister Finwion, join me in operating room 3 within fifteen minutes."

Stark left the room. Woods' face was priceless. Obviously, the fact Daniels snatched his patient in front of him didn't please him at all. Fëanáro repressed a smirk. He hated this one.

{O}

"What on Earth did just happen?" Samuel asked more harsly than intended.

"Well, it seems Nina was clever enough to stuck the hot-medieval-brothers in the corner and get answers, even if it was not those she was looking for", Mary answered.

The idea that said brothers lied about their names and told "falsified versions" made her upset, too.

Both surgeons were just leaving their respective operating rooms. Several hours earlier, Stark told Mary she would help in the oldest Fëanorion brother's intervention, while Samuel had to handle the youngest, and informed her their first names were actually a bit different than what they had told her. Reading modifications on their files, Mary thought she could have screamed. Why did they play this silly game, not telling the truth about their identity, making physicians waste precious time? They were surgeons, not policemen, they had other things to do than investigate in the administration area, like, for example, healing patients at the brink of death !

After the brothers' operations, Samuel explained his colleague what he understood from Nina's confrontation with Fëanáro, being careful not to disrespect confidentiality that much. He was so angry he even expressed loudly some dirty conclusions about Nina and her patient (his patient!):

"I'm sure he's in love with her, even if they don't know each other. There is something inappropriate in this story, including the brothers too, I'm certain."

"Do you hear yourself talking? It's Nina! She would never be involved in what you think, she's above this nonsense! Think about it: these three acts like they came straight out of the Dark Ages, not knowing anything about modernity. They call every woman here "my lady", they have strange names with as much variations as needed letters to spell them. One of them is convinced he knows our friend from God knows where! Nina is not the problem. These patients are. And so are you."

"Don't you think she could be related to these brothers, too?"

"Because she shares the same hair color as the oldest? Are you serious?"

"And the eyes", Samuel enumerated. "Even the ears. Didn't you notice she -they- had pointed ears? It's discreet, not big enough to be seen, but it always made me think about imps."

Mary looked at her friend as if he had totally lost his mind. Was he that bitter he decided to hid behind low mockery against their colleague? None of this made sense. She used the toilets as an excuse to escape from his nefarious presence.

{O}

"What will we do if they indeed are stowaways?" Nina asked Stark.

They just had operated a woman with broken glass in her face, belly and limbs, and were now washing their hands while talking about the Fëanorions and Finwion.

"Did they say they were?", Stark asked. "Did they admit it? They only told they were from Europe, right? But what if they didn't talk about themselves, but their family's origins, daily life, culture and folklore? Finwion talked about a community. Maybe there is a group somewhere in the United States that lives like during the Middle Ages, and uses a rare dialect from the Old World."

"Could this explain why they're not recorded anywhere? Why they don't understand anything about modern convenience?"

"Why not? That can't explain their injuries nor why the youngest almost drowned, but it could happen anytime to anyone. Let's avoid another police intervention in this hospital. We already had two, last month, and that's enough. We'll deal with that later. We already waste enough time because of the name problems, our priority is to heal patients. Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

{O}

The day was finally over. Nina was glad she didn't have night shift this time. But a part of her wanted to stay, to ask many questions to Fëanáro and his cousins. She felt uncomfortable but wanted to stay with them at the same time. A cup of herbal tea in front of her, Nina was lost in her thoughts. Why did medieval like patients' names sound so familiar? Fëanáro Curufinwë. Maitimo Nelyafinwë. Makalaurë Kanafinwë. Even "Finwë" echoed in her mind… Tired, the young surgeon drank her herbal tea and prepared to sleep.

Cling. Cling. Cling. Tools carved stone, giving it shapes its sculptor had in mind. The rock, hours after hours, became a body. When she worked, time didn't matter; she just lost its track. She took a break, however, more tired than usual. Someone came behind and gently hugged her, strong chest against her back, firm muscled arms around her shoulders and waist, rough yet delicate hands on her stomach each day rounder. She closed her eyes and smiled when her husband kissed her temple.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine, don't worry."

"Too late, melmë. Tell me if you need anything."

"You know I won't forget that, do you?"

He laughed before kissing the top of her head.

"Nerdanel Mahtanyeldë, you drive me crazy."

"I know, dear", she teased while turning to face him and hug him back.

The unpleasant alarm woke Nina up at that exact time.

"Stupid devilish invention", she grunted, "I wanted to know what happened next!"

She wasn't only frustrated. She was sorrowful. This didn't look like a dream, but a sense of déjà vu. Intrigued, she realized tears were dampening her cheeks. Nina got out of bed and ate her breakfast absentmindedly. The man's aura, in her dream, still caused her to shiver, making her nervous like a high-school girl over a classmate. Yuck. She took a quick shower, clothed, tied her hair, brushed her teeth and left.

"Daniels", Robertson began when he saw her coming out of dressing room, "we're going to check Mr. Finwion's wounds, and when we're done, we'll help in the emergencies."

Doctor Robertson was one of the most talented plastic surgeons of New York, and chief of this service there. He directed Makalaurë's operation, then helped on Maitimo's while orthopedic attending surgeon fixed his right wrist, and now was really curious about Fëanáro's fast healing burns.

"I've heard he was… fond of you", Robertson added while they took the corridors.

"Yeah, I didn't get that..."

"It's not always a bad thing, you know. Sometimes, a patient who has had a traumatic experience needs someone as an anchor. You are a surgeon, one of the first healing him he saw the face of, and you were kind and sweet to him. That's enough."

"If you say so..."

They came in Fëanáro's room. Seeing Nina, the man's face lightened up. He was even pleasant to Robertson, who was totally astonished to notice he was cured.

"Sir, you have a magical skin", concluded the plastic surgeon. "You have almost no scar, I don't even need to intervene!"

"You sound disappointed."

"If everyone was like you, I would lose my job! To talk more seriously, you are a total mystery, but you're perfectly healthy. You don't need to stay here anymore."


End file.
